


Thermodynamics

by Rhaized



Series: The Madonna and Baby [5]
Category: His Dark Materials (TV), His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman, The Golden Compass (2007)
Genre: Gen, Lyra being resourceful and reasonable, Lyra is like dude what's happening, Mrs. Coulter being psycho Mrs. Coulter, Mrs. Coulter freaks out, No heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:41:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27617102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhaized/pseuds/Rhaized
Summary: The heat at Mrs. Coulter's flat goes out and Lyra is the only one who's reasonable.
Relationships: Lyra Belacqua & Marisa Coulter
Series: The Madonna and Baby [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1998481
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41





	Thermodynamics

**Author's Note:**

> First law of thermodynamics: energy can be neither created nor destroyed. It can simply be transferred from one form to another.

The first time Lyra ever heard Mrs. Coulter scream was on a particularly blustery January evening when all the anbaric heat went out in the apartment. 

It was a soft sound, really, if a scream could be considered soft. It was low and guttural as it erupted from Mrs. Coulter's chest. She was standing in front of the living room vents and waving her hands around in front of cold-blowing air. The sound only lasted a moment, and it didn't happen again, but Lyra was most fascinated at the development. For the first time, it seemed like Mrs. Coulter was an actual human in the way she expressed her frustration. 

"This is a disaster," Mrs. Coulter huffed as she sped by Lyra and made her way over to some kind of control panel in the hallway utility closet. Lyra and Pan crept closer, exchanging raised eyebrows. 

_ She's angry,  _ Lyra noted, watching as the golden monkey jumped up onto a big steel box and began poking his deft little fingers through wires. His movements were swift and unforgiving as he examined different wires and hissed at them. 

_ No, she's scared,  _ Pan countered, taking in the way Mrs. Coulter kept glancing all around the little utility closet while her breath started quickening. She was swaying a little bit, even, as if she were going to fall over. 

She soon yanked the monkey away and shut the door with a loud snap before hurrying over toward the kitchen where the main telephone was. Lyra heard a very loud, sharp tone echo from the room along with an unmistakable screech from the golden monkey. She also heard the phone slam against the receiver and more rushed footsteps until Mrs. Coulter blew past her again and headed into her study. She hadn't even  _ looked  _ at Pan and Lyra, who remained transfixed in their spot just outside the living room. 

_ Definitely angry,  _ Pan agreed. 

Above all, Lyra was starting to feel  _ cold _ . The temperature in the room seemed to drop considerably the past half hour or so of Mrs. Coulter's scrambling about. Lyra had goosebumps on her arms as she hung around the living room near the sliding door that led to the terrace. The draft from the window swirled over to her. Pan changed into an arctic fox, sniffing the air. "Frigid!"

" _ Too  _ frigid," Lyra mumbled, shuddering with her fingers snaking up and down her bare arms as she headed down the hallway to alert Mrs. Coulter that the temperature was, in fact, frigid and she was cold. 

"Mrs. Coulter?" Lyra called, standing at the threshold of her study. Mrs. Coulter's study was her  _ private space,  _ the woman had made clear. Lyra wasn't to enter it or bother her while she was working inside of it; Lyra shouldn't even  _ breathe  _ near it or think of it. But the current moment felt different as the door was swung wide open and Mrs. Coulter wasn't sitting at her desk but, instead, fiddling with the fireplace on the right-hand side. 

_ "Damn it!"  _ the woman exclaimed. She was sitting on her knees as she was lighting matches to no avail. They'd flicker, but as soon as she leaned forward to ignite the coal, nothing would happen. The monkey let out a screech as Mrs. Coulter tried two more times. 

"Mrs. Coulter?" Lyra repeated, feeling very much like an intruder in that moment and feeling as self-conscious as she'd ever felt in her few months living there. 

"Darling!" Mrs. Coulter suddenly exclaimed, as if she'd only just noticed her. Her face softened and her eyes brightened as she jumped up and came over to Lyra. "How are you doing?" 

"I'm cold," Lyra complained, crossing her arms. Mrs. Coulter tutted a sympathetic sound as she wrapped the girl up in a hug and then led the way out of her office, rubbing Lyra's back softly in a way that felt so comforting and so good—especially when it was  _ so cold.  _

"I know, my love. Unfortunately the anbaric heating isn't working, nor is the fireplace. I've made some phone calls and some people will be up to help us very soon. How about we get you changed into something toasty warm?" 

They went through Lyra's wardrobe (which was packed to the brim with fancy new outfits and pajamas and furs) and picked out a pink fleece onesie and one of Lyra's new fur coats meant for the North. 

"This might be  _ too  _ warm," Mrs. Coulter cautioned as she helped Lyra shrug into the furs, which was a lovely little fox number (Mrs. Coulter's favorite). "These are meant for the most extreme and barren regions of the North where you can die of hypothermia in minutes. And, while it's chilly, I don't think we're going to find ourselves  _ that  _ uncomfortable…"

Mrs. Coulter said that, but after she heard the lift ring and raced over to greet the repairman, Lyra wasn't so sure she really meant it. 

"Has she really been to the North before?" Lyra asked Pan as they leaned against the hallway wall to watch Mrs. Coulter and a man look at the utility closet again. "She seems barely able to stand the cold." Mrs. Coulter's voice was high-pitched and giggling as she talked to the man and pointed things out in the utility closet. She was also shivering more than she had over the past hour, stepping closer to the man and making dramatically-chilled noises. Her hand was on the man's back and both her gaze and his even glanced toward Lyra for a moment after a while. 

"She's sure acting impatient," Pan agreed. He took on the form of a white polar bear now, as if to prove to Lyra and Mrs. Coulter and anyone else that he was tough enough for the cold. "And unreasonable. Did she just  _ hit  _ him?!" 

The furnace, the repairman had told Mrs. Coulter, was broken and needed to be replaced. Unfortunately, it was a one of a kind model he'd never seen before so he had no way of knowing what other kind to get for her. Plus, it was already getting late into the evening, when all the shops were closed. 

"I'll call your company and have your job for this," she said sweetly as he entered the lift to leave. He balked at her and she smiled wide. "And I'll make sure no one else uses your services and your boss will go out of business. Have a  _ lovely  _ evening in what I'm _ sure  _ is a warm home with a properly functioning furnace."

Mrs. Coulter didn't scream again, as she had when this first happened, but she dug her hand into the back of her daemon's neck and squeezed down,  _ hard _ . He let out a small whimper, his tail thrashing, and she simply continued to glare at the still-descending lift. 

"Tea, dear?" Mrs. Coulter asked a few moments later without stopping for a response. She was running from the utility closet back to her study, where Lyra assumed she was either going to call another repair company or swear some more at the fireplace that wasn't working. For her part, Lyra went to her bedroom and grabbed a blanket to drape over her shoulders. She wasn't cold, as the furs  _ indeed  _ warmed her up nice and proper, but she wanted to be comfortable, and her one blue throw blanket in particular always made her feel safe and comfortable. 

"This is golden entertainment, Lyra," Pan said thirty minutes later from their perch outside the living room. Mrs. Coulter had brought them their tea before greeting yet another repairman, who said the same exact thing as the first one. 

"Call us in the morning!" he eventually spat at her as he packed up his tools and she insisted he fix it  _ right this moment _ . "There's nothing I can do right now to get you a new unit. I can't work miracles, lady. Grab a blanket and go take care of your kid for God's sake. It's the coldest day of the year."

She didn't like those comments (as she made  _ perfectly _ clear as the man stalked away from her), and Lyra felt herself laugh but then yawn as she sank back into the sofa, Pan curling up in her lap as a drowsy tabby cat. 

"I don't know what to do, Lyra." Opening her eyes hastily (she must have dozed off!), Lyra turned to see Mrs. Coulter sitting beside her on the sofa. She was still wearing her blue, long-sleeved dress from earlier and looked completely and utterly exhausted as she stared despondently at one of the paintings on the wall. Even the golden monkey looked run down. 

"Can't we call in the morning?" Lyra offered, stifling a yawn. "I'm tired, and you look tired, too."

"But it's so cold," Mrs. Coulter said, not exactly to Lyra but more so out loud to the world. "How are we supposed to sleep in the apartment when it's so cold?" 

Again, both Lyra and Pan had to wonder if Mrs. Coulter had actually traveled north, and if she had,  _ how,  _ exactly. Everything Uncle Asriel has said about the north included vivid details of almost freezing to death in canvas tents and on extended climbs. "The north is no place for a child," he had told her. It was too harsh, too cold, too dangerous. And maybe, Lyra wondered, it was no place for Mrs. Coulter, either. 

Mrs. Coulter sighed dramatically again, tucking her legs under her and embracing a pillow for warmth, and an idea hit Lyra just then. It was so simple and exciting that she couldn't help but blurt it out: "Slumber party!" 

Mrs. Coulter wasn't sure at first, but she indulged Lyra and followed her over to her bedroom after first changing into her pajamas and washing her face and brushing her teeth. When she came into Lyra's room, clad in a teal fleece pajama set that very much resembled Lyra's onesie, she saw the girl's bed piled high with various blankets from around the flat, along with the curtains pulled tight. 

"That's to keep the heat in," Lyra explained as she eyed the curtain, patting on the bed and watching Mrs. Coulter slowly come over, her face amazed. "It's like insulation. You trap the cold air behind the curtain so it doesn't come in and mix with whatever warm air is left in here. This is what people used to do before anbaric energy. They'd have curtains 'round their beds, too, to keep all the cold out as much as they could."

"How did you learn all this, Lyra?" Mrs. Coulter asked as she arrived at the other end of the bed, lifting up a few of the covers and slipping inside.

"It gets cold in the North," Lyra said, considering the woman looking up so peacefully at her, "so I wanted to know. Jordan's got a lot of books."

"What else can you tell me?" 

"Well, heat itself is the flow of thermal energy," Lyra explained, surprised as she was basically parroting a textbook she remembered reading a few months ago. "Humans produce heat, too. It's from our cells as we burn energy. Some people give off more than others, but that's why people in old times would always pile together and sleep in one space, because they'd all provide heat. Animals do this, too."

At this point they were both tucked in the bed and under all the blankets. Mrs. Coulter took the top ones and tucked them over Lyra, gazing down at her. She seemed to be getting over her panic and shock as she regained some control and some of her responsibility as the caregiver. 

"Do you like this kind of thing, Lyra? Do you think you'd like to study it one day?" 

"Yeah," Lyra said, because she did. "I think it's called… Thermodynamics?" 

"Yes, I believe it is."

"And it's got four laws," Lyra remembered, racking her brain to try and think of them. "I only remember the first one, which says energy can't be created or destroyed but transferred. So the heat we've got here can be shuffled around, or released, or contained."

"You're extraordinary, Lyra," the woman mused, moving now to run a hand through Lyra's hair. Lyra smiled and felt more at peace. She was dimly aware of Pan and the golden monkey embracing somewhere on top of the covers. Pan was purring. "Thank you for sharing your knowledge with me and keeping us warm."

"Shouldn't you know all about this, though?" Lyra couldn't help but ask. "Being as you traveled to the north so much and stuff?" 

"You'd think I would," Mrs. Coulter simply smiled in return, her gentle brush steady and smooth to the point where Lyra felt her eyes start to droop. "The human body is remarkably adept and can adjust to almost any condition, such as that in the north. But when they're used to comfort, then it can be harder to adjust and even something not quite so extreme can feel very much so."

It made sense while also  _ not  _ making sense. But Lyra was too tired to do more than hum a sound of acknowledgement. She was so  _ tired,  _ as it was so  _ late  _ and they'd been so grossly occupied with the furnace and the people coming to help them. 

"Sleep now, darling," Mrs. Coulter crooned, and then Lyra was out and actually quite cozy with the warmth of Mrs. Coulter's body next to her and her daemon on top of the covers. 

When she woke up the next morning, Lyra was  _ sweating.  _

**_"_ ** _ Gosh!"  _ she exclaimed, throwing off the covers and jumping out of the bed. Pan flew into the air as a dove and headed for the vents. Scorching hot air blew out of them. Pan flew back and Lyra's eyes widened as she shrugged out of her furs. "It must have gotten fixed!" 

"But when?" Pan asked. "It's still very early, and we'd all gone to bed not that long ago!" 

The two darted out of their bedroom to find Mrs. Coulter sitting serenely on the sofa. She wasn't in her fleece pajama set from last night but, rather, a loosely-tied green robe with a silk, black slip on underneath. 

"Good morning, Lyra dear. Did you sleep well?" 

Lyra simply stared at the woman, eyes flickering over her clothes and the cup of tea in her hand and her daemon sitting calmly by her side. 

"Did—did something happen last night after I fell asleep?" 

"Oh, yes. Father MacPhail found me a repairman from the Magisterium and they brought us a brand new furnace."

_ What?  _ Pan balked, peering at Mrs. Coulter as an ermine.  _ How is that possible? The others said they didn't know where to get one, and nowhere was opened…  _

"You best get changed now, darling," Mrs. Coulter sang then, nodding back toward Lyra's bedroom. "Busy day today. I want to teach you about physics."

_ What a weird, strange, unbelievable night,  _ Lyra thought as they retreated back to her room and wandered over to her wardrobe. Lyra almost wondered if she'd dreamt it, the chill of the apartment and Mrs. Coulter's frustrated outbursts and the slumber party of blankets and thermal dynamic lessons. 

At any rate, the heat was back on and Mrs. Coulter and Lyra could go back to living life as normal. And if the heat were to ever go out again, Lyra would be quite prepared. 

**Author's Note:**

> It’s the time of year near me where people start to have furnace and heating problems, and I just laughed thinking about how Mrs. Coulter would handle this (and how Lyra would) and thought I’d share this piece. Hope you enjoyed, and if you are in a cold climate—I hope you are staying warm :)


End file.
